


Breaking and Entering

by WolfWarrioress



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguing, Character Development, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Lust, Might be a lemon coming later, Rating May Change, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfWarrioress/pseuds/WolfWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bregan D'aerthe's latest success brings a new problem, especially for a certain psionicist. KimmurielXOC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I apologize for any OOCness on Kimmuriel's or Jarlaxle's part. I tried very hard to keep them in character, however. I also assumed that everyone reading this would probably already know what they look like, so I didn't bother explaining it. Please review. It really helps.
> 
> This work was initially posted on Fanfiction.net, where I use the same username, WolfWarrioress, although I am making a few small edits to it as I post it here, so it might read a bit differently.
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything canon belongs to R.A. Salvatore, everything else to me.

Nothing made Jarlaxle happier than battle plans playing out smoothly.

The bracelets on his arms jangling and the heels of his boots clicking with every step he took, the drow mercenary leader strode casually down the wide, marble-floored hallway, six soldiers at his back.

Infiltrating the High Palace crowning the city of Armadan had proved far too easy, such that no one outside its walls-and few inside-would even notice until morning, and by then his task would be complete.

As he reached the end of the hallway, the two drow who had replaced the chamber's original guards turned and pushed the large, ornately carved gilded doors inward. Without breaking his stride, Jarlaxle entered the room, a genuine smile spreading across his face at the sight that greeted him.

This was the throne room, with floors of the same polished marble, thick tapestries adorning the walls, the throne in the center of the floor and three steps up. His warriors had made short work of the guards stationed in here, their bodies strewn about, some unconscious, and others sleeping more permanently.

Before the throne, oblivious to the killers standing all around her and standing defiantly with her shoulders straight and chin up was the Lady Serenade, the freshly crowned queen of the city-state and the one who had broken her mother's trade agreement with Triel Baenre, Bregan D'aerthe's employer this evening. Behind her, looking much more unsettled by their captors, were her ladies-in-waiting, dressed as the queen was, in nightgowns and robes.

"Your Highness," Jarlaxle greeted, stopping before her and bowing low from his waist, sweeping his great plumed hat off to expose his bald head.

"You must be the famed Jarlaxle," she returned, face blank of emotion.

The drow looked up from under his brows with a one-sided grin. "I see my reputation precedes me," he said as he straightened with a flourish and replaced his hat.

She smirked. "Yes, I've heard of the untrustworthy cutthroat called Jarlaxle," she replied. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sure you know the answer to that, my dear," Jarlaxle said, businesslike.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Serenade said, hostility obvious beneath her calm tone.

"Well then, allow me to enlighten you," the rogue drow said, beginning to circle to the left, gesturing broadly with his hands. "Now, you've been the ruler of this magnificent city for—I believe four tendays now?"

"Three."

"Ah, three. And already you have managed to anger one of the most powerful rulers in Faerun. Do you still not know why I am here?"

She fidgeted and swallowed, unable to hold his gaze. Jarlaxle glanced to his right, where Kimmuriel Oblodra stood casually beside the throne, and exchanged a look with his lieutenant.

"Well, perhaps your human memory needs more jogging, then. Do you remember a certain pact you broke between your city and Matron Triel Baenre?"

"My mother was wrong to make that treaty!" the words exploded out of the queen, her calm finally shattering, and Jarlaxle began walking back to the right, nodding, a knowing smirk on his lips. "Dealing with dark elves brings nothing but regret, as this encounter proves. This is my reign now, and I will choose who my cities allies itself with. It is my right."

"Only as long as it does not stand between the drow and what they desire," Jarlaxle told her, his tone that of a teacher correcting a student. "I truly think you should rethink your last statement, considering my soldiers are more than eager to wreak havoc on your citizens should I merely give the word."

"What?" the queen cried, aghast. "No, they are innocent civilians, they—"

Jalaxle interrupted her. "So you would reinstate your contract with Triel Baenre?"

The queen froze, clearly torn, and the room fell silent without their conversation, the others present watching with interest.

And then the tension was torn down the center.

Jarlaxle's sharp eyes snapped to a movement emerging from the rear of the ladies-in-waiting, then a figure in a dark clothes rushed forward. The mercenary leader caught sight of a flashing knife as the unexpected, leaping defender lunged for the nearest drow, who happened to be Kimmuriel Oblodra.

The room dissolved in chaos, the human women shrieking and stumbling away, the drow soldiers coming to life and drawing blades to crush the resistance.

Had it been anyone but a drow, the victim would not have escaped unscathed. However, fast as any human may have been, a dark elf, even caught unaware, was still faster. Kimmuriel whirled, throwing up a kinetic shield that stopped the knife cold mid-swing. Relentless, the attacker drew back and spun a full circle to attack Kimmuriel from the other side. The drow stepped back, allowing himself time to summon his own blade of glowing energy and parry the strike, before following with several of his own blows, driving the attacker back under his superior strength, before locking the two blades and dragging his attacker to him, his free hand finding a slender wrist and applying a bone crushing grip until the dagger dropped to the floor.

The woman writhed in his grasp, twisting and yanking to get free, but Kimmuriel held fast as two soldiers stepped round him and seized her arms tightly. The psionicist turned to face Jarlaxle, oblivious to her struggles.

Jarlaxle chuckled, having been the only one in the room to not move, simply watching, relaxed, throughout the drama. "Well now, who is this?" he asked, strolling forward to look down at her. "She branishes a knife as if she knows how to use it. What is your name, warrioress?"

The woman's lips remained pursed, her eyes staring over his shoulder, and Jarlaxle laughed. "My, such stubborn women your city breeds, Highness. Kimmuriel?"

Knowing what he wanted, his lieutenant focused on the captive, who glared and tried to squirm away, but Kimmuriel answered Jarlaxle's question a moment later. "Nadina Nemiah, Jarlaxle. Specially trained to defend the queen from those who wish to harm her."

Jarlaxle chuckled again. "A cousin to the queen! Who could waste such a jewel by training her as a killer? Surely she among the most exquisite beauties I have seen on the surface—besides yourself, of course, Highness." Jarlaxle captured her chin and turned her face to catch the light. A look that Kimmuriel did not like spread across the mercenary leader's face.

It was true, the young woman—compared to other surface females, at least—was better looking than most. She possessed dark, lustrous hair that had fallen out of the leather thong meant to keep it out of her face and tumbled across her shoulders. Her eyes were as dark as her hair and looked out of a carefully crafted face, delicate yet with a fierceness hidden behind it, above a dainty mouth with a fuller bottom lip.

Jarlaxle released her and stepped back to address the queen again. "It seems to be taking you quite a while to reach a decision, my lady. Therefore," he continued quickly, as she moved to speak, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge interest." He turned and grinned at the captive woman held between the two drow, and the queen started.

"What? No, you can't—"

"Can't I?" Jarlaxle challenged. "Who can destroy your city?"

The queen fell silent, her eyes seeking Nadina's.

"Accept the offer, my lady," the younger woman urged, her quiet voice carrying in the still room, returning the queen's gaze with resolve. "Better just me, than our people."

The queen shook her head helplessly, whether refusing or not accepting, the onlookers weren't sure.

"Think of it as adhering to an old custom," Jarlaxle said cheerfully. "Have not humans used marriages to seal alliances for ages?"

Serenade closed her eyes in defeat, then nodded. "I…Alright. I will reinstate the treaty with the drow."

Jarlaxle grinned. "I knew you would see the situation from my point of view." He produced a scroll and quill. "Then, Highness, if you would simply sign…? Kimmuriel? Would you be so kind as to escort our guest out of here and begin the recall?"

The drow lieutenant gave a curt nod and turned to the door, his captive attacker being herded by her guards behind him, the rest of the drow falling into line except for the six that had arrived with Jarlaxle.

The last thing Nadina saw was the queen's distressed face growing smaller behind her and Jarlaxle's leering grin beneath it.

XXXXX

Nadina jerked awake with a gasp, bolting upright. Panting, her wide eyes searched the gloom, confused, until she remembered the events in the throne room.

Oh. It hadn't been a nightmare.

With a moan, she glanced nervously around the small room, almost feeling the unbroken stone walls closing in on her, suffocating her. Wrenching her mind away from such thoughts with her teeth gritted, Nadina forced her attention elsewhere.

Her heartbeat finally began to slow. She was lying on her back—now propped up on her elbows—in a simple bed. The stone walls were empty, the only light spilling from a single candle left on the table to the right of the bed which was barely bright enough to light the farthest corners of the room. Also to her right was the door. As her eyes settled on the only break in the seamless gray of the walls, the portal swung inward, opening to reveal two drow faces, only their white hair and a vague outline of their lithe bodies visible in the scant light.

The human sat up completely, instantly wary, swinging her legs over one side of the bed as both soldiers started towards her. She swallowed but attempted to keep the anxiety and fear she felt building in her chest off her face. Without speaking, each elf grabbed an arm with one hand that was deceptively strong and dragged her to her feet, starting towards the door before she could get her legs under her properly, leaving her scrambling to keep up.

The corridor they led her down was even darker than the room, with nothing lighting it, and she was completely dependent on the drow to guide her. That didn't stop her from struggling every few steps, however, trying in vain to wrench her arms out of their iron grip. Even if she could free herself, she doubted she would make it far in the dark, but it was the principle of the thing.

XXXXX

"Why did you bring the human woman with us?"

Jarlaxle turned from depositing his cloak over the back of a chair to glance at Kimmuriel, debating how to answer him. "She has obvious fighting skills," the mercenary leader finally replied, looking back at the table.

"So you mean to bring her into our ranks?" It won't be the first time Jarlaxle had invited a human to join them, but not a female.

"Eventually, perhaps."

"Do you truly mean to marry her?" His lieutenant's voice was slightly strained. The idea of being bound to a human repulsed him, but Jarlaxle was known for having unique and different tastes. Jarlaxle grinned, his face hidden.

"Oh, she's not for me, Kimmuriel," he answered slyly. He could sense his lieutenant's unease at that statement, and turned around, despite his cat-like grin, wishing to see Kimmuriel's face with his own eyes. "I myself am too easily bored to stay with one partner for too long, if you catch my meaning. And, busy as I am managing our affairs, I hardly have the time to deal with an unwilling human," Jarlaxle began melodramatically. "This tender surface creature we've dragged into the bowels of the earth needs someone a bit steadier to watch and guard her. And teach her the ways of the drow...something you have plenty of experience in. "

Kimmuriel schooled his face blank, oblivious to the innuendo, but Jarlaxle still saw the dread growing inside him. "But, of course," the mercenary leader continued nonchalantly, "I can't just give her to any common soldier. Hence…the human is yours. After all, she seemed so taken with you back in the throne room. Practically threw herself at you." He laughed at his own joke.

Kimmuriel was not amused. "Jarlaxle, I have neither desire nor need for her."

"Don't you? How long has it been since you last saw a female privately, Kimmuriel?" Jarlaxle was all seriousness now.

His lieutenant ignored the question, knowing Jarlaxle knew the answer. "She's a human, Jarlaxle, [i]ibilith[/i]. Doesn't even look like us."

"That can be fixed," the other drow said, holding up a finger to forestall anymore arguments. "And here she is now," he added more loudly, looking towards the door at the other end of the room, and Kimmuriel turned to see the human thrown into the room by her escorts, who immediately released her and stepped back out of the room, leaving her shoving on the door.

"Do join us, Nadina," Jarlaxle called, beckoning with a hand. The woman glanced at the door, then started towards them with trepidation.

Because of the candle on the table, Nadina was able to see the two drow as she moved across the room, albeit barely. She sent a hardened look in Jarlaxle's direction, and he merely grinned.

"Don't look so upset to see me, my dear," the mercenary leader said, taking her chin gently. "It's unbecoming on your pretty face. Besides, you yourself chose to come here with us to save your people. Rather a brave thing to do. Or naive, depending on your point of view."

"Just get it over with," she demanded hostilely. "What do you want me to do?"

Jarlaxle released his hold. "I used the word 'marry' because that is what you and your queen were familiar with, but we drow have no such practice. Still, you are not to be passed around my soldiers. My travels have brought me into contact with many different sorts of magic, so we can replicate such a bond here." He retrieved something from the table and turned back to her, holding a goblet in one hand, which he made a show of presenting to her. "Drink it all, if you please."

She took the goblet carefully, holding it delicately, as if it would break, sniffing the dark liquid. "What is it?"

"It will allow you to see using infrared vision, as we do," Jarlaxle answered patiently. "You will hardly be useful if you cannot see what you are doing." Throwing him a warily glance, unsure if that line contained any innuendo, Nadina looked into the goblet again. He could be lying to her, but being able to see in the dark would certainly assist in her escape. Deciding that since he had gone to such great lengths to drag her down here it would be illogical for him to give her something deadly, the human emptied the contents of the goblet, forcing herself to swallow before handing it back to the drow, who simply produced another. "Now this one."

Nadina took the goblet. "What's this one do?" she demanded, annoyed.

Jarlaxle caught a strand of her hair, though she immediately jerked away. "White skin and dark hair simply isn't as attractive as dark skin and white hair," he explained bluntly. "Drink it."

She thrust the goblet back into his hands, turning to run, but Kimmuriel reacted instantly, catching hold of her arm and pulling her back to face the other drow. "No!"

Jarlaxle caught the goblet and glanced at his lieutenant. "Thank you, Kimmuriel. Now, Nadina. I give you one last chance to retain your dignity and drink this yourself. If not," he nodded to Kimmuriel, "we tip your head back and shove it down your throat. Your choice."

Nadina swallowed, glancing at the goblet Jarlaxle offered, trying to make herself reach for it. The thought of her white skin turning black sickened her. It would be as if she was becoming one of them, corrupt and twisted. She shook her head hopelessly. Jarlaxle glanced at Kimmuriel and gave a subtle nod.

The other drow had no desire to be close to her, but he didn't let that show as he dragged her strangely limp form back against himself. It was impossible to talk Jarlaxle out of one of his schemes once they got into his head, so he might as well get used to being around her. Besides, humans lived much shorter lives than drow, and Jarlaxle was correct in saying that he had not coupled with a woman recently. Perhaps, with her skin a different color, however…

He pulled his attention back to the task at hand and crossed one arm in front of her torso, his other hand landing on her forehead and pulling her head back, so the he saw her dark eyes looking up at him before she closed them.

"You'll still be human," Jarlaxle soothed, taking hold of her chin again, pulling her mouth open and pouring the contents into her mouth, his hand clamping over her nose and mouth until she swallowed. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, stepping back to set the second goblet beside the first. Kimmuriel stepped back as well, and she lifted a hand to wipe her mouth, bowing her head.

"Now then," Jarlaxle continued as if nothing had happened, turning back to face them, a thin silken silver cord held lightly in his hands. "We have one last task. Your hand, please, Nadina."

The human thrust her left hand at him, turning her face away and closing her eyes again, letting Jarlaxle lead her to the table and press her palm down against its surface.

"Kimmuriel?"

Nadina numbly registered that this was the first time she had heard the other drow's name. She didn't move or open her eyes as she felt him come to stand behind her again, laying his hand over hers. It didn't matter which one of them she was bound to, they were still drow. She felt the string Jarlaxle had been holding draw tight around her ring finger twice. With a quick incantation, Jarlaxle tapped it, and the string sank into their fingers and disappeared, leaving only smooth white lines on the skin.

Kimmuriel removed his hand, and his warmth left her back. Nadina opened her eyes then, forced to blink back tears, to her anger and shame. She clenched her hands into fists, oblivious to Jarlaxle's chuckle. She was aware of him blowing out the candle, then her head swam and her knees buckled.

XXXXX

Jarlaxle caught the human as she fell unconscious suddenly, his potions finally taking affect. "Excellent timing," he commented to Kimmuriel. "Now you can take her securely to your rooms without the threat of her attempting to escape. Congratulations, old friend."

The other drow made no acknowledgement, but he stepped forward and easily gathered the slender form in his arms, an arm behind her back and one under her legs. He paused only long enough to throw Jarlaxle an unhappy look, then he turned and carried her out the door.

Jarlaxle grinned broadly as the door shut behind his lieutenant, pleased with the circumstances. Nothing made Jarlaxle happier than causing chaos.


	2. Acceptance

The next time Nadina awoke, it was a slow, easy, natural awakening. It was, however, reminiscent of the previous time she had woken from a sound sleep in that she was once again confused regarding her whereabouts. She was lying on her left side in a considerably more comfortable bed, but how she had gotten here, she could not remember. Slowly, she sat up, supporting herself on her left hand.

This was not the room she had occupied the last time she had been unconscious. This room was larger, and though the stone walls remained bare, it was a far cry from the sparsely furnished first room. The area was clearly lived in, but it was not filled with anything save necessities and few personal affects, nothing that identified the owner. It seemed the type of room that belonged to a person who did not rely on objects to remember the past, or did not easily form emotional attachments to anything.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, a brush with the cold stone floor made her aware that she was barefoot. Looking around the room from her higher vantage point, she spotted her cloak and boots beside a table. Odd that she could see so well, but there was no evidence of any light sources. That was when she noticed the white lines around her left ring finger. Before, she had barely been able to see the lines. Now, they stood out boldly, as if they had gotten brighter, or…

Or her skin had gotten darker.

Startled, Nadina leaped to her feet, splaying her hands in front of her, sliding one sleeve up her arm. Frantic, she reached back and pulled a lock of her hair forward.

It was pure white, contrasting dramatically with the darkness of her hands.

Breathing deeply, Nadina simply stood staring at it until the ache in her feet from the cold floor grew too great to ignore, and she slowly sat back down on the bed, pulling her feet up. Clearly, Jarlaxle's potion had worked while she had been unconscious. Almost not daring for fear of the answer, she reached her hands up to the sides of her head, pushing the hair aside until she could trace her fingertips over the tops of her ears, exhaling in relief when she found they remained rounded. She was still human, despite her skin and hair color.

And that explained why she could see, even with the distinct lack of candles. Nadina grinned. She was no longer a prisoner in the dark. With eyesight, and the perfect disguise, she could easily slip through the drow ranks unnoticed and make her escape. It was almost too easy. Was Jarlaxle such a fool that he could not see that?

But what would she do on the surface?

Her heart sank again. Even if she could find her way out of this black tomb, the people on the surface would never believe her story. They would see her only as a drow temptress to disarm them, perhaps the vanguard of a larger attack. They would hunt her down and kill her, and she had no way of reversing the effects of the potion, or any idea of how long it would last.

Perhaps the mercenary leader was not as foolish as she had previously thought. He had managed to singlehandedly ensure that she would not try to escape, to make her completely dependent on the drow to survive. Her fate was tied to them in a hopelessly tangled knot. She was now completely at their mercy, subject to any whim. Despite her training, she knew that she could never survive the Underdark alone for long.

Nadina traced a fingertip over and over the lines on her skin as she thought, staring across the room at the far wall, but the mindless activity did nothing to help her find the answer. Every way she looked at the circumstances and every angle she considered, she was trapped, for whatever reason Jarlaxle wanted her here.

And while she had no idea what that reason might be, she doubted she would like it.

But she refused to give up that easily. Nadina rose from her seat on the edge of the bed, stepping quickly across the freezing floor on tiptoe to her boots and slipping into them. For good measure, she drew her cloak around her as well, relishing in the familiarity of her own clothing—the only things she now owned, she realized.

Partly to take her mind off such despairing thoughts and partly out of her own curiosity, Nadina began exploring the contents of the room. The first thing she did was find the door, though it was, unsurprisingly, locked. There was truly nothing in the room in the way of personal belongings, but nearly every storage space was neatly filled with books, and several sat on the desk, pages marked, amid neatly scribbled notes and papers. Nadina picked one up, but it was written in drow, and she could not read it. As she returned it to its' spot, she heard a noise outside the door, and she froze, straining her ears.

Someone was unlocking the door.

Without thinking, her training to fight back kicking in, Nadina whirled, grabbing the nearest item—a wide book with a two inch high binding—and pressed her back against the wall beside the door, heart hammering in her chest. She would have to time this perfectly, to catch the entering person off guard, but she would need a split second to judge his height…

Kimmuriel jerked back instinctively before he even registered the object flying at his face, feeling something graze his cheek as he did so. Raising a hand, he formed a barrier to protect himself, then shouldered the door to his quarters open.

His guest flew at him again, attacking, and Kimmuriel shot his other hand forward, a wave of invisible psionic energy catching her in the chest and throwing her back, where the weight of the item she held caused her to stumble and sprawl on her back.

Taking the moment's reprieve, Kimmuriel turned to shut and lock the door, standing sideways so that she would not catch him off guard again. His blast and the fall appeared to have knocked the breath out of her for a moment. The drow spared a glance for her, then stepped over her prone form and picked up the object she'd swung at his head—a book—and set it back on the table. He turned and opened a cabinet on the wall, removing a small container before twisting the top off and smoothing a fingertip of the paste over the bleeding cut on his cheek, then replacing it and facing her again.

The human sat up slowly as he worked, supporting her weight on her hands, watching him. Kimmuriel had not seen her since the potion had done its magic, and now he found her almost unrecognizable, the red glow of infrared vision coming from her eyes. He would have to tread a bit more warily around her in the future. Not that Kimmuriel considered her a threat, but he had not been the only surviving member of his house because of luck—it was caution and preparation that had kept him alive this long. Again, he wondered exactly what Jarlaxle wished to accomplish by this.

Looking away as he looked at her, Nadina climbed back to her feet, straightening her robes and shoulders. In truth, his gaze intimidated her, but she refused to show weakness before a member of such a merciless race. And the casual way he dealt with her attack infuriated her, for some reason. Nadina was not known for easily becoming angered, but perhaps the stress of the situation, combined with fear, uncertainty, and despair, pushed her to the breaking point.

Nadina dove for the book again, and came up swinging. The drow ducked under her strike, and she quickly twisted to prevent him from grabbing her, and launched the book at him. Kimmuriel turned to the side and caught it easily, setting it back on the table. He spun back to her to catch a pillow in his face, which, while it did not hurt him, confused, surprised and disoriented him. He tore the object away from his eyes and searched for her. The scrap of wood on stone from over his shoulder was the only warning he had, and Kimmuriel dove forward into a roll, feeling the chair breeze past his back. The maneuver left him crouched beside the bed. Keeping his head down, he didn't need to reach out with his mind to know where she was—the rattling of the door gave her position away.

Calmly, Kimmuriel rose to his full height, and she whirled to face him. The drow leaped, using his innate levitation abilities to launch himself over the bed. She moved as soon as he did, diving at the table. She jerked another chair up between them, denying him a grip on her, and dashed away, leaving him to drop the furniture to one side and scramble after her towards his desk.

Nadina's frantic hands found another book, and she turned and threw it without a second thought. The drow held out a hand, and it bounced harmlessly off the seemingly empty air. What sort of spell did he kept casting? she wondered in frustration, but had no time to dwell on it, turning to grab another book as the dark elf lunged towards her.

Nadina turned to hurl it and flinched, biting back a scream, not expecting her adversary to be so close to her.

Kimmuriel grabbed the book as she turned back to him and ripped it from her grasp, his patience used up, though outwardly his face remained blank, only his jaw taught. He dropped the book and seized both of her wrists in a bone crushing grip to prevent her from finding anymore possible weapons, but she continued thrashing frantically. His superior strength and height logically proved that fighting his hold would be in vain, but logic seemed to be the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"Stop this idiocy," he ordered, struggling to still her movements, but she didn't seem to hear him. With a shove—perhaps rougher than he intended, but only _slightly_ —Kimmuriel shoved her back against the desk, pressing himself flush against her in an effort to keep her still. "Stop this," he growled a bit louder.

The human's eyes widened fearfully, and she bent over backwards, desperate to escape him. Kimmuriel's eyes widened slightly as the movement sent her hips into his, but he regained his composure quickly, drawing his mind away from such thoughts. He kept a firm grip on her wrists, holding her gaze with one that clearly told her she would not like to consequences if she continued to resist.

Nadina swallowed as his eyes pierced hers before looking away, the intensity in his gaze once again overwhelming her. With a deep breath through her nose, she forced herself to still her fighting, though her shoulders and frame were still tense, trembling with nervous energy.

Kimmuriel drew a deep breath as well, and took a miniscule step back, partly to reward her for complying, but mostly because with the close proximity of their bodies, her quivering was very noticeably felt throughout his lower regions.

"What were you trying to do?" he asked, once again having to force his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

Nadina looked up at his quiet voice—quiet, but in no way gentle or reassuring. It was the voice of a killer, calm, steady, cold.

"That should be obvious," Nadina answered, her fear provoking a defensive, snappy response.

"And where exactly did you plan on going had you gotten past me?" The lack of emotion in his tone was almost worse than if he had been ranting and raving at her. It unsettled and unnerved her.

"Anywhere away from you drow," she retorted.

"I fail to see the logic in that. You would not survive a day alone in the Underdark."

Nadina could find no answer for that, having already reached the same conclusion, so she kept her lips pressed together, though she looked everywhere but at him. After a moment of watching her, Kimmuriel gave an almost impeccable nod of satisfaction that she understood her delicate situation.

"Knowing that without us you will not survive, is it therefore logical to attack the person responsible for caring for you?"

Nadina went to glare at him, but her resolve dissolved as soon as their eyes met, and she looked to her right, studying the floor. Kimmuriel shifted himself backwards, then straightened her out of her backwards bend by pulling her wrists towards him. Nadina glanced up at him in surprise, then down at her hands, noticing how close together their bodies were for the first time. She swallowed again.

It was a strange thing to look at her hands, and his, and see no dramatic difference between the two. His were slightly larger, with slightly rougher palms and shorter nails, and certainly they possessed more strength, but with hers now the same ebony shade, she could not find them so foreign. His were slenderer than a human man's hands, for he was of elven heritage, but there was no denying their masculinity.

Suddenly she realized he was waiting for an answer.

"Perhaps I would prefer the fate that awaits me out there to being locked up with the creatures who stole me from everything I love for the rest of my life," she snapped with far more bravado and daring than she felt.

The look he gave her assured her that he could see right through her guise. "Or perhaps you need more persuasion," he replied. "Therefore, I assure you that if you try to escape again, the people of your city will suffer the consequences."

Nadina pursed her lips as she registered his words. Jarlaxle was the leader of the mercenary band, and technically only he could order such a thing—but she had no way of knowing if this was his rule, or if Kimmuriel had enough power within the band to make such a thing reality.

"I see," she murmured quietly, bowing her head in defeat. She could not take the risk, either way. The guilt would haunt her for the rest of her life.

To her surprise, the drow loosened his hold on her wrists, then surrendered them back to her, though he didn't move away. She drew her hands to her chest, rubbing her wrists tentatively. Almost if he was daring her to try something, the drow slowly took a step back, then stepped to her right, up to his desk. She turned with him, watching as he straightened the objects she had upset in her quest for a weapon, slowly relaxing as it seemed he was content that he had made his point. He glanced at her as she leaned a hip on the desk, then returned to his tidying. That done, he opened a book and began paging through it. Without his eyes on her, Nadina found herself able to look over his figure, side on.

She had already known he was taller than her despite her own advantageous height, but now she realized that he was only a half a head taller than her. It was simply his stature and the way he carried himself that made him seem larger, more intimidating. Despite the loose clothes and cloak he wore, it was obvious that his form was slender and slim, but in no way feminine, simply lithe and powerful. The profile of his face captured her. It wasn't that he was overly handsome—though she would admit that he was attractive—but the sharp, exoticness of his chiseled features were like nothing she had ever seen before.

Nadina pulled her eyes away, looking down and tracing a finger over the white lines on her skin again—an action quickly turning into a nervous habit, she noticed with a wince. She folded her hands together in an attempt to prevent herself from doing so unconsciously. A movement drew her eyes back up to the drow, who had closed the book and turned to look at her again.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. The words prompted a shocked start from her, though his tone of voice was the same as before. He was not offering out of the kindness of his heart, but out of a responsibility to keep her alive, the way a pet or beast of burden was fed. Regardless, she nodded, having not realized how hungry she was until he asked.

"Stay here," the drow instructed, a firm note in his voice, "and I'll return soon." Without another word or gesture, Kimmuriel crossed back to the door and opened it, exiting smoothly before closing it behind him. Nadina heard the lock turn, and she was alone again, staring at the door. She remained there for a few moments, then, looking around, felt her face heat slightly as she suddenly noticed the condition of the room, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to react so violently. Such a loss of control was unusual for her.

Then again, this entire situation was unusual.

More for something to do than out of respect for the room's owner, Nadina set about righting the living space, returning the chairs and books and other articles she had knocked over to their proper places. That done, she returned to the table and seated herself in a chair facing the door.

It was almost an hour before Kimmuriel returned again, but she knew better than to try the same attack twice. He would be expecting it, and she could not hazard retribution on her city. She was still sitting in the chair, arms wrapped around her knees, when she heard the lock turning and the door opened. Nadina stood up, but remained where she was as the dark elf entered and closed the door, easily balancing a book and plate of food with an effortless she had to admire. He came towards her, setting the book and plate on the table. With a glance at her, he slid the plate towards the chair she had been sitting in, then stepped around her and over to his desk, where he sat down himself.

Nadina watched him, then reseated herself and surveyed the food. While it appeared different than her accustomed fare, she chose to ignore questioning the contents of her meal and simply satisfy her hunger. The smells filling her nose argued against delaying consuming the meal anyway.

Her hands going through the thoughtless actions of feeding herself, Nadina took a moment to wonder what was happening on the surface. Would they try to find her? She hoped not, any battle between drow and humans would result only in a massacre—and it would not be drow bodies littering the caverns.

It seemed like an eternity had passed since she had found herself in the dark room she had woken up in that—morning? How did one tell time down here, without the sun? How many days had already passed while she was buried in this black tomb? Unbidden, tears rose in her eyes, but she blinked them away before any could fall. The unhappy thought caused her to set her food down, however, and she slid the plate away from her.

A movement drew her attention, and she turned to find Kimmuriel had removed his cloak, scant armor, and was stepping out of his boots, leaving him only in a loose shirt and trousers. She blinked, previous thoughts fading from her mind. The drow twisted to look at her.

"Come here."

Confused and wary, Nadina did as instructed, rising and slowly stepping over to where he stood. He looked her up and down. "Is that how you intend to sleep?"

Nadina looked down at herself, then stepped back, turning away from him nervously as she unbuckled her cloak and draped it over the back of a chair. Removing her belt, Nadina tugged the tunic she wore over her shirt over her head and set it with her cloak. She stepped out of her boots, trying to hide the discomfort caused from the cold floors as she faced him again.

She spoke to break the heavy silence. "I'll not share a bed with you."

"Then where do you propose to sleep?"

Nadina looked around. She had no qualms about sleeping on the floor—she had done so before—but she doubted her cloak, being a thinner summer one, would ward off the cold. The drow stepped towards her, and Nadina jerked back.

"What are you doing?" she demanded apprehensively.

"Do you truly think I am going to leave you unattended while I rest?" he inquired. "Think of your city."

Nadina backed further away from him, her back pressing against the table, but his words stopped her from hurrying around it. Kimmuriel held his position for a moment, then he advanced. "You will make your stay here much more pleasurable for both of us if you listen to what I say," he told her calmly in that quiet voice. Nadina turned her face to the right, once again unnerved and intimidated by the strength of his gaze. She watched his feet move closer out of the corner of her eye, and nimble fingers were laid across her forehead. She leaned away, not in an attempt to escape, but simply to delay the inevitable.

"I'll wake you in the morning," were the last words she heard.

XXXXX

Kimmuriel caught the human by her shoulders as he used his psionics to knock her unconscious, preventing her limp form from collapsing to the floor. He stood there for a moment, studying her still profile. Now that her human paleness had been replaced with the inkiness of his own drow ancestry, it was easier for him to admire the delicate, feminine features of her face. The drow studied her closely, then pulled her to him and lifted the human in the fashion he had before, carrying her to the bed and placing her in it. She was what he had expected from a human, and she had let emotions govern her, but he had known even some dark elves to do. Despite that, she reasoned things out, she calculated odds, she thought things through, she considered all angles. He could respect that. Wits were needed to survive the Underdark as much as brawns were. He looked down at her before moving to the bed's other side and lying down himself, rolling onto his back. It wasn't long before he slept too.


	3. Understandings

Centuries of disciplined life had ensured that Kimmuriel had developed an incredibly accurate internal clock. At precisely the same brightness of Narbondel as always, the psionicist woke from his usual dreamless sleep, instantly fully aware and coherent. He sat up slowly, the bedclothes gathering around his waist. His hand brushed something that was not his sheets or pillows, and the drow looked down, remembering.

His human guest still slept beside him, curled on her right side, soft lips barely parted as she breathed. Kimmuriel watched her for a moment, then turned away and stood up, busying himself with dressing. As one of Jarlaxle's lieutenants, he had a list of several tasks to handle, everything from their supply inventories to job requests to dissuading Jarlaxle from expanding to the surface for as long as possible.

Was that why he was so keen on bringing this human into the darkness with them?

XXXXX

Nadina woke from an ageless sleep to dexterous fingers against her brow, and she was momentarily disoriented, wondering if she was still pressed up against the table, waiting for him to send her unconscious. Her eyes flashed open, showing her a pillow and part of the room from a horizontal position, and she realized she had already been asleep.

The warmth left her forehead, and Nadina rolled onto her back to watch the drow—already fully clothed—cross the room to retrieve something from the desk, then he went to the door, opened it, and was gone.

Nadina's heart sank. Though she instantly spotted a plate of food awaiting her on the table, she was not looking forward to spending endless hours doing nothing in this hole in the ground, which was gradually feeling more and more like a prison. That gave her pause. Did she want to spend the entire day in his presence? No, she assured herself, she merely wanted a distraction from the endless boredom.

She ate her breakfast slowly, enjoying it, but trying her best to delay the inevitable. Eventually, however, the plate was clean, and her hands were empty. Sitting at the table, she looked around the room, considering her options. There simply were none. Bitterly, she thought of all the tasks she had left undone on the surface, having had no time for them then.

She spent the next two hours further exploring the room before taking to pacing, deep in thought. It was this activity she was engaged in when her drow subjugator returned, and she jumped upon hearing the lock turning.

"If you leave me alone in this room like that every day, it will not be long before I go mad," she informed him irritably, marching across the room towards him, though careful to keep a good distance away.

Kimmuriel turned to face her. "Being outside of this room is not a safe place for you," he said simply.

"Danger is not foreign to me," Nadina replied, unconsciously lifting her chin. "I'm used to being active, not sitting around counting cracks in the wall."

Without responding, Kimmuriel walked past her and back over to his desk. Infuriated that he ignored her, Nadina whirled to follow him. She didn't get further than a step, however, her foot catching on a chair leg and tripping her to the ground.

The drow turned around at the commotion as the woman rose with a grunt, her hand traveling to her chin, finding warm, sticky wetness there. Muttering curses, she sat back, glaring at Kimmuriel when he knelt in front of her.

"Don't touch me," she growled, using the table to pull herself to her feet. He rose with her.

"You are bleeding. This will heal and clean the wound." He lifted a small container in his hand.

"I don't need your help," she declared stubbornly, venting her frustrated—and frightened—emotions. "It doesn't hurt."

"Don't lie. The contents of your mind are as readable to me as your face."

Nadina's mouth dropped open in horror as she realized what he was saying. "You…you can read my mind?"

"I can read the minds of all those who are not protected by an equally powerful psionicist, or with a powerful magical item," he informed her, as if chatting about the weather. "So I know that you are disturbed by the thought, and I know that your chin and knuckle do indeed hurt."

Nadina simply stared at him. "Is this a...byproduct of Jarlaxle's spell?"

"No. Psiconic powers are usually passed on genetically, though sometimes a magical item will grant one the power, or protection. I have always had the ability, as did all children of my mother, before House Oblodra was destroyed."

Nadina sat down in a chair, and this time she didn't protest as he stepped closer to her and spread the paste across the cut on the underside of her chin. She stared at the container as he worked, then at her right hand when he took it in his left.

"I didn't even notice that," she said quietly.

He didn't respond, simply treating the scrape across her knuckles with the same procedure. She watched the healing mixture work with curiosity, but when he went to release her hand, she stopped him. Curious, Kimmuriel surrendered control of his hand to her, watching as she studied the white lines around his finger. She traced them delicately with one fingertip, then seemed to realize whose hand she was holding and immediately dropped it.

"Can you put thoughts into minds as well? Communicate across long distances?" She rose and took a few steps away as she spoke, turning her back to him. He recognized it as an attempt to change the subject and distract them both from what had just occurred without reading the contents of her thoughts. Humans were pathetically predictable, as easy to read as an open book, even without psionic powers.

 _Yes_ , he replied with his mind, demonstrating his abilities for her. She jumped, and he saw her back stiffen, a shiver running down her spine. _My abilities are invaluable to Bregan D'aerthe's success_.

"Is that how you broke into the High Palace?" she asked, slightly resentfully.

That _was due to meticulous planning_. Turning away from her, he put the paste away.

"What, exactly, is your role in Bregan D'aerthe?" She stumbled over the foreign words, but she had a remarkably correct accent for a surface dweller.

"I am one of Jarlaxle's lieutenants," he replied aloud. "An advisor and strategist."

She was quiet for a few minutes. He turned around to watch her. She looked very drow, standing as straight and rigid as she was, but she was nothing like a malevolent drow female. That was the main reason it had been so long since Kimmuriel had last enjoyed any privacy with a woman. The females of his own kind were strong willed and imperious, not easily subdued, and even those who were not nobles would be vengefully avenged by those who were, should a male try to do more than he was ordered. Being attacked by multiple snake heads was not a heartening thought. In a matriarchal society, a man took what he was offered, and was grateful for it. And no one asked for the services of a man of a deceased house. Kimmuriel had wisely kept his distance. Jarlaxle had as well, he knew, but he had sought female companionship elsewhere—namely, the surface. And the psionicist knew Jerlaxle had found quite a bit of enjoyable fulfillment there, but until now, Kimmuriel had never considered the possibility. The idea of mating with _ibilith_ had repulsed him.

So what was changing his mind now?

Was it simply that, for all intents and purposes, what appeared to be a drow female stood before him? That, for all their faults and flaws, the simple change in coloration was allowing him to see that humans and drow physically were not terribly different? Or was it his long unsatisfied need that kept drawing him into these thoughts? Or perhaps a combination of these thoughts? Or something to do with the spell that had left white lines around both of their fingers?

Her voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts. "Why did Jarlaxle bring me down here?"

"He has not shared his reasons," Kimmuriel replied. "But such things are hardly out of character for Jarlaxle. He is prone to acting on…spontaneous ideas."

The room was silent once more, each thinking their own thoughts. She broke the quiet first again. "Why did you say this room is the safest place for me?"

"It has been a long time since some of the men here spent any time with a woman. If the other drow warriors came across a female in the hallway…" He shrugged, though she couldn't see the gesture. "And there are those who would strike down those we call _ibilith_ with neither thought nor reason." He chose not to mention or acknowledge that he had once been among their number.

She turned to face him. "But if I went out with you…they would not dare try something against a lieutenant?"

Kimmuriel studied her, her thoughts betraying her hopes. "My work requires too much of my attention to leave any to watch you."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, but she looked at him firmly. "I may be quite a bit younger than you, but we humans age faster. I am fully mature. I don't need a babysitter."

"The situation in the throne room should have demonstrated to you that no human can hold their own against a drow," Kimmuriel answered realistically and firmly. "Even drow act desperately from time to time, especially younger ones. You should remember that you are now in my domain, and it would be wise for you to heed my instructions. _Stay here_."

XXXXX

Little changed during Nadina's first tenday in the Underdark. Kimmuriel woke her in the morning and brought her food, then he vacated his quarters for the majority of the day, leaving her locked up alone. He stopped in to hand her a second meal in the middle of the day, but other than that, she saw no one until he returned at what she guessed was late evening, and he made sure she was asleep before going to bed. This time was often the most interesting time of her day, as, while she had generally begun doing as he asked, she simply refused to cooperate when he reached for her forehead. She took to subtly avoiding him until he ordered or threatened her to act otherwise. On a few of the days, they had a casual conversation where Nadina would ask him questions, and Kimmuriel replied to the best of his knowledge.

The days alone were, to her pleasant surprise, not nearly as long or boring as she had first feared, mostly for two reasons. One was her discovery, completely by accident, as the thought to ask Kimmuriel had never crossed her mind, of how to switch her vision between the new infrared spectrum and her old light sensitive one. This filled several hours of each day, as she spent time practicing the change until she could do it almost without thinking, and then she took the opportunity to light a candle and explore the room once more, this time with her light-seeing eyes.

The second reason was that with her new discovery, she was able to page through several of the books on the shelves by candlelight, and, by studying those with diagrams, able to begin studying the written language of the dark elves. By the end of that first tenday, she was able to recognize individual characters, if not know what sounds they stood for, and she had figured out which ones were numbers. She was not sure whether or not Kimmuriel would approve of the activity, but she didn't ask, fearing to lose the opportunity to pass her waking hours.

She had been very careful to remember which day it was and how many had passed—trapped inside the same four walls, it would be incredibly easy for her to lose all track of time, and in the unending darkness, time was her only anchor.

Thankfully, however, that routine changed at the end of the tenday.

Kimmuriel had always already been dressed and ready for the day when he woke her, and already gone out and brought her food. He usually had simply woken Nadina and left with barely a word passing between them.

On her eleventh day underground, however, Nadina woke to find Kimmuriel still lying beside her. She was lying on her right side, her back to the edge of the bed, which, having never been meant for two bodies, was not overly wide. The drow was facing her, his right hand stretched across the distance between them to rest on her brow.

Even now, in such a casual setting, Nadina could not meet his eyes. She blinked, studying the lower features of his face, until he drew his hand back and sat up, the bedclothes sliding down to reveal that he had slept shirtless—and the clearly defined muscles of his chest and torso, rippling under smooth, velvet black skin made her stomach flip. Quickly, Nadina rolled onto her back, diverting her eyes, hoping he hadn't been reading her thoughts at that moment.

When she felt his weight move and then leave the bed, she sat up, curious as to the change in their routine.

"What's going on?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"I agree with your assessment of a few days ago," he answered, back to her, pulling a shirt over his shoulders and buttoning the front. "That you would go mad if you remain alone in here every day." He turned around. "However, I will expect you to keep up with me, and not slow my progress down, and therefore, I suggest you dress quickly."

It took Nadina a moment to realize what he meant, then she quickly threw the bedcovers aside and swung her feet onto the floor. Nadina had acquired a bit of a different wardrobe over the last few days. Now, she wore black, loose but fitting trousers, a brown shirt and a black jerkin over it, made out of what passed for leather down here. Her soft, worn boots still covered her feet, almost soundless on the stone floor, and her cloak was clasped around her neck. Within a few minutes, they were both dressed.

Without another word or gesture, Kimmuriel moved to the door and opened it, stopping in the doorway and looking back at her, clearly holding the door open. Nadina hurried over to him, but his hand clamped onto her arm, stopping her when she was in front of him.

"Remember your city," he said, tone holding a warning edge. "And stay close to me." He let her pass, closing and locking the door behind them. Nadina followed at his elbow as the drow started off down the corridor. She had almost forgotten about the threat to harm her people. But an escape attempt had been the furthest thing on her mind. She was glad of the drow's long, fast strides. After so many days of inactivity, it felt good to move her body, to stretch her muscles and tendons, and she kept up eagerly, her energy also fed by her desire to discover what lay beyond the door she had stared at for so many days.

XXXXX

The decision to allow Nadina to accompany him was not one Kimmuriel was pleased with, but he had explored the logic of the situation and decided on the best course of action, for several reasons. It was not that he suddenly saw her as being capable of surviving in the drow's world—far from it. But he recognized that she would need exercise to remain healthy, and his business was not as important or time consuming today. And there loomed the very real possiblity of her words coming true—humans were fragile, after all—and Kimmuriel had no desire for a madwoman to be occupying his quarters.

So, having taken into account every perspective, the drow had grudgingly concluded that it was time to free the human from her prison. Besides, he was annoyed with Jarlaxle's persistent questions as to her whereabouts and health, and he had noticed in the last two days that nearly every soldier in Bregan D'aerthe knew that it had been Jarlaxle's choice to bring the human into the dark—and while some might push boundaries with Kimmuriel, no one dared to risk crossing Jarlaxle. Of course, with her altered skin and hair colors, the human did not stand out as obviously as she would have, and would not attract as much unwanted attention.

Ultimately, he trusted his logic and abilities. Kimmuriel was certain that guarding a human would be far from the hardest thing he had ever done.


End file.
